Smoke and Mirrors
by Glittering Pegasus
Summary: Sydney and Vaughn are about to discover a shocking truth that will change their lives forever. ((pretty heavy S/V... pre-finale. *Begging* for reviews. lol))
1. Prologue

Co-written by Dani and Elektra

****

**_Prologue_**

****

**_*_****_Los Angeles_****_, 1976*_**

_It was dark that night, darker than he could remember in a long time. There was no moon and no stars, and the night seemed to cloak him like a black curtain. _

_Something inside him, something deep and urgent, told him to run. With every meter he drove, something told him to drive faster. Something told him that nothing was right. _

_He tried to ignore the hairs standing on the back of his neck, the unnatural chills that felt as though they were filling his entire being. _

_Run, run, run._

_Drive, drive, drive.  _

_Get home. _

_Hurry, faster._

_You won't escape. _

_The feeling terrified him. But he was twenty miles from his home, and he couldn't let anything distract him. His son was home with a babysitter while his wife was out, and all he wanted was to return to greet him, in time to tuck him into bed. _

_Meanwhile, she followed. She followed and she sensed his discomfort and laughed. That laugh seemed to echo through the air, the taunting that a thousand words could never even describe. _

_He noticed the head lights behind him, but tried to ignore them. He tried to remind himself that not everyone was after him, and not everything was a conspiracy against him. But that same unnerving feeling whispered that this time, there was something he should fear. _

_They were the only ones on the road that night. _

_The car behind him pulled up beside his and the driver rolled down her window. He pushed down the gas pedal and tried to swerve away. _

_She pulled the cold, hard trigger and with perfect aim, hit a tire. Then another. _

_He wasn't going anywhere. At least, not alive. _

_He opened the door with a great force. The click of his gun safety being disengaged bounced through the all too silent air. _

_But she was too fast for him. Her fingers jerked the trigger back again, and he hit the ground before he had the chance to react. _

_She strode calmly over to his death bed (the cold, cement road) and dragged him to her car. Into the trunk he went, as though she did this a lot. "Goodnight, William Vaughn." She softly derided, slamming the roof over him. His coffin. _

_As she climbed back into her seat at the wheel, a low static buzzed from the device at her ear. A quiet, deep voice spoke through the crackling. "Good work."_

_"Thank you. It was no trouble," she answered, her voice carrying through an unseen microphone on her necklace. _

_"And to think he was such a high ranking agent. He never saw it coming."_

_"Yes. He will be missed by many."_

_The deep voice grew suddenly mocking. "Oh yes. He did have a wife, didn't he?"_

_"And a child with her."___

_"Hmm. What was this wife's name?"_

_"Serena. Serena Vaughn. She'll have to stick around longer than he did, of course, to raise the son." _

_The two chuckled eerily, then the deep voiced man congratulated her again and both devices were shut off. _

_ She fell victim to the silence once again. _

_Finally, she spoke, this time seeming almost softened. No one was there to hear her, but she had to say the words aloud before they devoured her whole like they already had to  her soul and heart. _

_"I miss being Carrie Welch.  I don't think I want to be Serena Vaughn any longer."_

_TBC..._


	2. Suddenly

A/N: Okay, forgive the fact that this goes from super-perky and happy to major angst in a span of like a page. I was in very different moods when I wrote each part. Lol. 

Smoke and Mirrors Part One~ Syd POV

"Ok, guys... there's pretty much nothing on TV. So, _Mission__ Impossible, Back to the Future, or __Quills?" Will asked as he flipped through the pages of the TV guide. _

"Not _Mission Impossible_," I shook my head. "It's a little too close to home."

Will chuckled. "Right. Vaughn, do you have a prerogative?" 

"Isn't _Quills _the movie with the girl from _Titanic_?" Vaughn wondered. 

Will nodded. 

Vaughn continued. "So it's also the movie about the insane sadomasochistic porn writer? And they all live in France, yet somehow they have British accents?"

I laughed. "And that offends you? Because you grew up there, so you're the God of its language?"

He smiled. "_Oui, mon cheri." _

Will held back a laugh and leaned into the cushions. "Alright, fine. _Back to the Future_ it is, then."

He reached for the remote and changed the channel to USA. Vaughn put his arm around my shoulders and we all relaxed. It felt nice to just kick back once in a while and not have to worry about anything. 

But, as always in my life, it didn't stay that way. My bliss lasted for thirty minutes tops. Not long after Marty McFly had caused Biff Tannon's car to swerve into a manure truck, my phone rang. 

Damn phone interrupts everything. I think my life would be increasingly better if I just shut off my phone. 

I stood from the couch and reluctantly hit 'Talk.' 

"Hello?"

"We need you at operations, now."

"I'll be right there."

I hit the 'End' button. 

Not long after, Vaughn's cell phone rang and he received a similar talk.  

"See you later, Will. When Francie gets back from the restaurant, tell her I'm sorry I had to run out like this and I promise to make it up to her."

"Got it," Will answered distantly, apparently engrossed in the movie. 

"Thanks," I called back, and Vaughn and I left. 

I suppose us walking simultaneously into the Joint Task Force building probably looked a bit suspicious, but at this point I didn't really care.

This was, after all, the Central Intelligence Agency. If they couldn't see what was going on between Vaughn and me, I fear for the safety of our country. 

"Ah, Agent Bristow, Agent Vaughn," Kendall greeted us with his usual callous manner. "You're probably wondering why I called you down. You have an assignment." He handed us both a manila folder. 

I carefully opened up the corner of mine and pulled out a couple of glossy black and white photographs. As I realized what they were of, a chill ran up my spine. 

Each showed a hard rock and dirt wall, dark and shadowed. It seemed to be underground. In what appeared to be alcoves built into the sides, there were the outlines of something strange and awful to see. Human skeletons, wrapped in some kind of cloth. 

"What... what is this?"

"The _Pecherskye _in the Former Soviet Union. Kiev, Ukraine. You're looking at a series of underground cathedrals where monks lived... and, as the pictures clearly show, died one thousand years ago. It's actually a popular tour attraction, morbid as it may seem," Kendall explained. 

I nodded and replaced the photos back in the manila folder with the mission details. 

Kendall continued. "You two are going to Kiev. You'll be posing as tourist newlyweds on their honeymoon. Your mission is to uncover the body of Uraslav Anokhianov. If you remember Perkashov last year, Anokhianov is a similar situation. There is some kind of code hidden in his skeleton," he paused and looked hard at us. "I assume _none_ of this will be too difficult for you?"

Vaughn and I exchanged quick glances, not sure what Kendall had meant by that. Did he simply mean the mission wouldn't be too difficult, or the part about Vaughn and me pretending to be a couple? 

Was he on to us? 

I had the distinct feeling that we were busted. 

Oh well. Screw protocol. 

"Where did you get this intel?" Vaughn wondered, breaking the silence. 

"From a document that was discovered in the remains of the Credit Dauphine building."

"What is the code for?" I asked. 

"We're not sure yet, that's what we want to find out. You leave tonight." 

*****

When we finally got back home, Will was halfway through his second movie, _Zoolander. _

"Hey, you're back."

I plopped down on the couch. "Yeah, and beat. I swear, I wish I could just sit and relax for a night."

"Mission?" Will assumed. 

I nodded. "We leave in four hours," I answered dryly. 

Will's eyes filled momentarily with concern, but he quickly hid it. "Well be careful, you guys."

"We will," Vaughn promised. 

Will smiled a little and nodded. "Okay. Francie called. She'll be home later than expected."

We watched until the end of the movie, then Vaughn went home to pack. "I'll pick you up at ten."

"Alright."

He kissed me softly before leaving, then he was gone. I headed to my room to pack. 

****

It was 10:15 and he wasn't here. Our flight was at eleven. We had to get there soon. Where was he? 

Maybe he was just held up in traffic. I decided to give him five more minutes before calling. 

Five minutes came and went. He still hadn't come. 

I had a cold, heavy feeling at the pit of my stomach that spread throughout my body. Something was definitely wrong. 

I grabbed my phone and blindly hit the speed dial. It rang four times before the answering machine picked up. "Hey, Michael Vaughn here--" His voice on the recording was cut off by me slamming the phone down. 

Hurriedly, I headed for my door and fumbled for my keys. 

I didn't notice or comprehend anything as I drove, probably speeding, down the darkened Los Angeles streets. Everything flew by in a blur, my only thoughts on making sure that Vaughn was alright. 

Finally, I reached his apartment door. I rang the bell. 

No answer. 

I slammed my fist on the door three times, not caring if I woke anyone down the hall. 

Nothing. 

Shit.

Swiftly, I pulled a hair clip from my purse and picked the lock. I entered as quietly as I could and shut the door softly behind me. 

The apartment was silent and Vaughn was nowhere to be seen. 

"Vaughn?" I called in a hushed tone. "Michael?" There was still no answer. 

I made my way through the rooms leading to his bedroom. All I could hear was the wild pounding of my own heart. 

His bedroom door was opened a crack. I pushed it all the way opened and there he was, sitting on the edge of his bed, phone clutched in hand. He was staring off into space and his eyes were slightly red. He'd been crying. 

"Oh my God," I whispered. 

I dropped my purse and made my way over to the bed, taking a seat right beside him. I took the phone from him and took his hands. "Vaughn... Vaughn, what happened?"

He turned to me, his now pink tinted green eyes filled with sorrow. "My uncle called. There was a fire at my old house... my mother was there. She... she didn't get out. My mother's dead, Syd...." he grasped my hand harder and whispered, "She's dead."


	3. Gray

A/N: Sorry there hasn't been an update in a while. Hopefully this one will move faster in the future. Ok, I also have to inform everyone that as of right now, I'll be writing this alone. Elektra and I settled our problems before, but now she simply has a bad case of writer's block and will be taking a break from this until she gets her juices flowing again. ;-) She wrote most of this chap. Though, so credit goes to her for that. :-)

Smoke and Mirrors~ Part 2  
  
Vaughn and I sat there for what seemed like a very long time, neither of us speaking. We both cried a little, he for his mother and I because it hurt me to see him so sad. All I could think to do by way of comfort was to hold him tightly and hope it helped.  
  
When at last we drew apart, I saw from a quick glance at my watch that only forty-five minutes had passed since I'd left home. Still, we had missed our flight. I supposed we'd be in serious trouble with Kendall in the morning. I found I really didn't care... there were more important things to worry about at the moment.  
  
I stood up from the bed. "Come on, Michael. You need to get out of here for a while."  
  
He stood as well, giving me a bewildered look. "And go where? It's getting late, there aren't many places open at this hour."  
  
"This place is always open to us. Come on, let's go."  
  
He followed me wordlessly. We only paused long enough for me to retrieve my purse, and he his apartment keys. Moments later we were in my car, heading for our destination. Vaughn was still silent, but more composed than earlier.  
  
Just ten minutes later, we arrived. I got out of the car, finding the long-unused key on my key ring. Only as he waited beside me as I opened the door did Vaughn comment on anything.  
  
"Sydney, we haven't been here in ages. What are we doing here?"  
  
We went inside, opened the gate, and sat on the crates, now thick with dust. They obviously hadn't been moved since we'd last been here. It was nice to know that, to discover that no one else had been given the use of this place for their meetings. It still belonged to us.  
  
"I thought you might like to come here because it's so quiet, and private. And special to us, too. I thought you might be able to focus better here. If you want, we could go..." I was rambling, afraid he had misunderstood my intentions. But he looked me straight in the eye for the first time that night as he answered.  
  
"No, this is nice. Thank you, Sydney." He sighed heavily and rested his head on his hands. "My uncle said the funeral will probably be in three days. He said he'd call when the arrangements were final." He looked at me again. "Will you come with me?"  
  
"Of course I will. How come your uncle is planning things, and not you? I mean, I thought the child of the person usually did those kind of things."  
  
"Mom asked him to, a long time ago. I guess after what happened to Dad, all that she went through, she wanted to spare me from that." Vaughn paused as a shadow passed over my face. He looked down, clearly sorry he'd brought up the subject of his father so casually.  
  
"I'm sorry, Syd. You know by now that I've never blamed you for what your mother did to him. To this day I can't figure out why she did it. I never saw our parents together when they would have dinner together and things like that. They usually went out. But I knew they were friends. They worked together on missions too sometimes, from what I could tell. It doesn't make any sense."  
  
"I know. There are times I wish we had met before our families fell apart.... maybe we could have helped each other then, too. But at least I still get to see my mother, sometimes. That prison isn't the place for private discussions by any means, but at least she gets to know that I'm well. I can go back there next week."  
  
"You never miss the one of those visits, do you?"  
  
His tone seemed almost accusatory, and I looked down, blushing. "No. I shouldn't have brought this up. But she is still my mother. I know what she did was wrong, but she's still my mother..."  
  
"I know that, Syd. I'm not asking you to apologize to me for wanting to see your own mother. I've never tried to make you feel guilty about going there." His usual gentle tone had returned, and I again had the courage to look up.   
  
"I know... I'm sorry this came up, especially now. It's just that next week's visit is especially important to us. It's my birthday, the day I'm going..."  
  
"Sydney, you don't have to justify yourself to me. "  
  
I sighed. "Thank you."   
  
Michael nodded sadly, then stood. "I'm finally feeling halfway calm, and now I realize I'm starving. Would you mind if we went somewhere to eat, or picked something up? I mean, if you're in a hurry to get home to get some sleep..."  
  
"Sleep can wait. Let's go."  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
  
The day of Serena Vaughn's funeral dawned chilly, the sun mostly hiding behind low, dark grey clouds. These had lifted a bit by noon, when we mourners left the church for the short drive to the cemetery. That part of the ceremony was brief, and all but Vaughn, myself and his Uncle Adam scattered when it ended.  
  
We tried making conversation, but it was awkward. I felt like an intruder on their grief. More than that... my own mother had been responsible for the funeral of this woman's husband, the man she'd loved. I felt this was the last place I should be. The church service had been easier than being here, standing at her graveside.   
  
I tried to excuse myself gracefully, but I saw concern leap into Vaughn's eyes when he saw my own expression. So I stayed, trying to hide my feelings. The last thing Vaughn needed today was to worry about me. His uncle seemed very taken with me. He certainly seemed nice, and it was a good thing to finally meet some of Vaughn's own family, even though I wish it had been under better circumstances.  
  
After a few more minutes, we left. Vaughn admitted that all he really wanted was to go home and rest, so I had him drop me off at home. I let go of his hand, which had been tightly clasped in my own during the whole funeral, and watched him walk into his building. I didn't see him again during that week, as he'd been given a few days off. Before I knew it, it was Monday, and visiting day with my mother had arrived.  
  
 I still get a little nervous every visiting day._ She's still your mother... _I have a habit of repeating that over and over whenever I see her. That's because sometimes, especially lately when I look at her, I don't see my mother. I see a stranger.  
  
Of course, it is her, still. She's just very changed. She's missed my growing up. She tells me I've grown into a beautiful woman, and I feel flattered, despite the things I know she's done. But underneath her pride in me, I hear something else. Bitterness and despair. I think I know what has changed for her. She used to hope she'd still get out of this place, and now it seems the hope has left her. So I come... because I do still love her.... and I know that my visits are the only thing in the world she looks forward to.  
  
At last, I arrive in the visiting room. She's in the high security wing, and of course we aren't allowed a hug or even the simplest physical contact. We both regret that, but there is nothing to be done about it. A moment later, my mother is brought in. She sits down on the other side of the Plexiglas barrier and smiles, wishing me happy birthday, and telling me how she's missed me.  
  
"I've missed you too, Mom. How are you?" That always seems like a stupid thing to ask.... but the habits of small talk don't go easily.  
  
"The same," she whispers. That is always her answer, and it never fails to make me feel sad. But today she has more to say. "You look tired, and sad. What's going on?"

"I'm okay..." I answered slowly. Then I admitted it. "It's Vaughn... his mother died a couple of days ago. I just came from her funeral." 

I swear, right then, I saw something.... something in my mother's eyes. They flashed just for a moment, then her shroud slipped back on. "Oh."

That's when I allowed myself to get angry. My emotion finally seeped through and I realized the audacity of the situation. This woman... this monster... "His mother is dead."

She nodded, silent. 

"No, you don't understand, _Irina. His parents are gone. He lost his father when he was _eight years old._ Now the woman who took care of him and sheltered him alone through all those years is gone. I'm all he has left. And it's because of you," the words were escaping from my mouth as if under possession. I couldn't stop them. _

"You took his life away when he was eight, before he had a chance to live it. All he had was his mother..." my voice was cracking, overflowing with emotion. "Something I never had." There, I said it. "I hope you're happy with what you've done."

My eyes were stinging and I knew what was coming. I couldn't let her see me cry. Without looking back up at her, I turned around and told the guard I was through. The steel doors slid open and I continued walking, but I could feel her eyes following me away. 

Those eyes were begging and screaming to tell a secret, release the truth. 

I couldn't allow myself to listen. 

END PART TWO_  
  
  
  
_


	4. Graditude

Smoke and Mirrors Part Three Vaughn's POV  
  
"Henry, passent le galet!" ("Henry, pass the puck!")  
  
"Avancent, Henry, je suis clair!" ("Come on, Henry, I'm clear!")  
  
"Uh-Oh..." ("Uh-Oh...")  
  
"Mike, le bloquent, le bloquent!" ("Mike, block it, block it!")  
  
"Et le slap shot de Rene est bloqué par Mike l'hockey Wonderboy. Le bon, Mike." ("And Rene's slap shot is blocked by Mike the Hockey Wonderboy. Good one, Mike.")  
  
"Hé, Mike, qui est dans cette voiture noire dans votre allée?" ("Hey, Mike, who's in that black car in your driveway?")  
  
"Je ne sais pas. Peut-être c'est... l'OH relatif mon gosh! Mon papa venant à la maison aujourd'hui! J'ai dû aller, des types!" ("I don't know. Maybe it's a relative... oh my gosh! My dad's coming home today! I've gotta go, guys!")  
I woke up embedded in sweat, screaming to my mind, trying to warn the boy not to go home. Don't go home! I still remember that day, crystal clear in my mind. I remember that game of street hockey and I even remember the score. If only I'd known what the black car was really there for, what was waiting for me.  
  
I used to have dreams about it... well, nightmares. Ones that would leave me trembling and terrified until my mother would come in my room and coax me back to sleep.  
  
I haven't had one of those nightmares since I was ten. Until now. And no longer is my mother here to coax me back to sleep. Maybe that's what brought it about.  
  
I stared up at my ceiling for a couple minutes, arms folded behind my head. I was wide awake now, not much hope for falling back asleep. Sighing, I sat up and stumbled through my room. I somehow made it to the kitchen.  
  
Lights off, I opened the refrigerator and listened to the quiet whir for a moment, the cold chilling my cheeks and numbing my eyelids. I was about to grab the water pitcher when the phone rang. Who the hell would be calling at two in the morning?  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Vaughn... I'm sorry for calling you so late. Did I wake you?"  
  
Leave it to Sydney to somehow know to call at the exact times I need her most. "No, I was up. Getting a drink."  
  
"Oh, good... are you okay?"  
  
"Why wouldn't I be?"  
  
"Generally speaking, people don't wander around at 2 a.m. unless something's on their mind," she answered quietly, as so not to wake Francie, I guess.  
  
"Then what's your excuse?"  
  
"I had an instinct." She left it there. I think I loved her even more right then, if that's possible. "So...are you going to tell me what's wrong?"  
  
"I don't know," I began. I reached my hand up and rubbed it through my tousled hair. "I had this dream. One that I haven't had in over twenty years. It was just kind of unsettling."  
  
There was silence for a moment. She was trying to decide if she should ask or not. "What was it about?"  
  
Now I paused. I wasn't sure how she'd take this. "My father. The day my father died."  
  
"Vaughn..." she started softly, caringly. "I'm going to come over, okay?"  
  
I was going to protest, tell her she didn't have to do that. But the truth was, selfishly, I wanted to see her, and I didn't think I could be alone tonight. So all I said was, "Okay."  
  
"Give me ten minutes."  
  
"Alright," I agreed, and hung up.  
  
Sydney arrived pretty much ten minutes on the dot later. I'd been watching, or blankly staring at, some old movie on AMC when I heard the soft tapping at my door. I opened it and led Sydney to the couch. She kept her eyes down the whole way.  
  
"So..." she began quietly as we sat side by side on the couch. "How are you?"  
  
I shrugged lightly. "I've been better."  
  
"I... Vaughn... I'm sorry."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For... I don't know. For what happened to your mother... for what happened to your father. I'm sorry for my mother taking him away..."  
  
I was about to cut her off but she stopped me. "I know you're about to say that I can't be sorry for her. But I have to be... because I don't know how else I can make the guilt lesson."  
  
"God, Syd... it's not your fault. You have to understand that not everything is your fault."  
  
"It doesn't matter... all that matters right now is you. I'm here for you... I just have to know that you'll be alright," she told me gently, but with a hint of urgency in her voice.  
  
I reached down and carefully slipped my hand into hers, and she finally looked up and into my eyes. "I'm not... but I will be.... I promise."  
  
"Can I help somehow?"  
  
"Just stay with me."  
  
Her eyes were slowly becoming glassy, and I felt mine tearing as well. But a shadow of a caring smile reached her lips and she brought her hand up to my face, tenderly stroking my cheek. I placed my hand on hers and slowly leaned in to kiss her.  
  
It wasn't about raw passion or desire or lust this time... it was comfort. It was sweetness. It was love. We silently stood and headed to my room. There, we simply fell asleep as I held her and she caressed my hand. *** I opened my eyes the next morning and noticed that her eyes were opened as well, and she'd been watching me. "Morning."  
  
"You talk in your sleep," she mocked softly.  
  
"Really? What did I say?"  
  
"'The laundry fell in the sewer.'"  
  
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to recall my dream but no avail. "Strange."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
We fell victim to silence, then I said in a whisper, "I have to go to my mother's today and clear up what's left of her stuff."  
  
She placed a hand, feather light, on my arm. "I... I can, you know... I should be getting home." She was about to sit up.  
  
"No, Syd. I don't want you to feel awkward about this. And... I want you to help. Please, come with me, I don't think I can do it without you there."  
  
She relaxed again and she was about to say something else, I could tell from the way her lips parted. But she closed them again after a second and nodded slightly, then leaned forward and lightly kissed my forehead.  
  
"Thanks for being here for me, Syd. I don't know how I'd get through this without you."  
  
She smiled a little. "Don't thank me... come on, let's get up. I think we're both in need of some coffee."  
  
I agreed and we started towards the kitchen, no more words needed between us. If only we'd known... if only we could have predicted.  
  
If only someone could have warned us of how our lives would drastically change that day, how we'd be dragged into a downward spiral and tangled in a web of lies, truth, revelations and deception. And it would all start with an ash covered colonial style house and a singed and burnt cardboard box. ***  
  
A/N: Ok I know the last line sucked. But at least it was foreshadowing. Lol. Please review!!! :-D 


	5. Ashen

A/N: Sorry about the delay. I have way too much crap going on. But I just had my dance recital so I've got one less thing to worry about. And my last track meet is on Wednesday. Yeah, I'm really broken up about that. Boo- hoo. Lol. Then I'll have so much more time for ficcy! Anyway, back to the fic. :-) 

**Smoke and Mirrors Part Four**

**Vaughn's POV**

_Don't look back  
Keep your head held high  
Don't ask them why  
Because life is short_

"It's this one," I told Sydney as I came to a stop in front of a large cream colored colonial home. Or what used to be a large cream colored colonial home. Now it stood tall and eerie, some of the wooden frame works peeking out through the gaping scorch holes in the wall. 

A few feet to the left of it, the place where the sun room and garage had been were almost completely gone, and the ground surrounding the blackened corner was blanketed with a thick layer of gray- white ash. 

Stepping out if the car and slamming the door, I felt a chill run down my back. This was my home. This was where I grew up. This place, this yard... half of it was gone. This is my mother's tombstone. 

"Vaughn?" I heard Sydney's voice calling me back to reality. 

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure you want to do this? I mean we can... we can come back if this is too..."

"No Syd, it's okay. I have to do this. 

And so we made our descent into the funhouse, unaware of the truth altering oddly shaped looking glasses and deceiving special effects that awaited us.  

_And before you know  
You're feeling old  
And your heart is breaking  
Don't hold on to the past  
Well that's too much to ask_

We started in the first room, the living room. 

I slowly placed the two boxes I'd brought from the stock of about fifteen in the car on the floor, and Sydney did the same. 

I looked around the room, what used to be my childhood adobe. It was filled with far off memories, everything somehow unaffected by the fire. I walked over to the fireplace and gingerly touched a framed photo on the mantle. 

It was me, sitting on a bench at a zoo my parents had taken me to in Paris when I was seven. A year before my father died, a half a year before we'd moved to LA. In the picture, I was smiling widely and pointing at the gorilla in his cage behind me. 

Sydney came up behind me and spoke in a soft voice. "Cute kid."

I smiled a little. "Thanks." Pause. "...Want to get started?" 

She nodded and I grasped the picture by the copper frame and laid it in the first box. 

We continued working this way for a while, wrapping the delicate items in tissue paper before packing them. Everything we picked up had a reminiscence attached, and it was all I could do to keep the warm tears from glazing over my sight. 

_This used to be my playground  
This used to be my childhood dream  
This used to be the place I ran to  
Whenever I was in need  
Of a friend_

Eventually, after about an hour and a half and two trips back to the car for more boxes, we worked our way to the sun room. 

The place that had clamed my mother's life. 

Finally, I felt one of the tears I'd been holding in swell in the corner of my eye, causing Sydney to blur. I wiped it away before it slipped down my cheek and hoped she wouldn't notice. Too much to hope for, though. 

"Vaughn... let's not do this room now..." she said slowly, taking my hand. 

I didn't answer, but squeezed her hand quickly and guided her forward, straight into the rubble. 

My mother loved this room. She'd sit in here for hours reading or singing. After my father died, I'd sometimes find her there crying, sobbing silently into the cuff of her sleeve. I'd climb onto the couch next to her and she's hug me until she fell asleep. This room was like her sanctuary, her escape from everything harmful and wrong. 

Funny how something you love and trust so much can become your enemy in an instant. 

_No regrets  
But I wish that you  
Were here with me  
Well then there's hope yet  
I can see your face  
In our secret place  
You're not just a memory  
Say goodbye to yesterday   
Those are words I'll never say_

We got back on our knees and started clearing things again in silence. After about ten minutes, I heard Sydney whisper, "Oh my God..." 

I turned to see her holding a small box, the lid partially singed. In Sydney's hand was a yellowed, curling piece of paper. Fingers trembling, she handed it to me. Black Cyrillic letters screamed out at me from the rough, crumbling surface. 

_"Carrie:_

_Prodoljayete k treteemoo shatoo. _

- _I.D." _

"Carrie- proceed to phase three- I.D.," I whispered, translating the letters. 

"I.D...." Sydney muttered softly. "Irina Derevko." 

_This used to be my playground   
This used to be our pride and joy  
This used to be the place we ran to  
That no one in the world could dare destroy_

_TBC... _

***

A/N: Ok yeah um... sorry about the weak attempt to spell the Russian words. My Ukrainian friend taught me the Cyrillic letter, but I'm not really the best at actually writing out in English letters (or saying) the words. I just kinda sounded it out. Lol. That was my best shot. :-) 


	6. Forgetting

**Smoke and Mirrors Chapter Five**

_Vaughn's POV_

"Vaughn... what... why?" 

"I don't know..." I trailed off, hand shaking horribly, causing the scrap of curled paper to tremble. 

"We... we'll get... an explanation." Sydney nervously suggested. 

"Yeah..."

Thoughts filled my head. Thoughts of horrible scenarios caused by... her. 

An explosion. The fire. My mother screaming and tortured, already in too much pain and too burnt to break open a window and escape. 

Suddenly, I dropped the paper and it fluttered to the ground. Everything around me began to blur as my eyes spilled over with liquid. But I didn't cry. I couldn't cry. I couldn't allow Irina that victory. 

Still, I found my legs weaken and collapsed onto the ash covered floor, my arm hitting a slab of plaster that had fallen through the ceiling. I didn't feel the pain.  Sydney reacted immediately.

"Vaughn! Oh, God." She sat next to me and embraced me tightly. "It's okay, we'll figure this out... we'll... we will. It's okay, it's okay..." 

It took my a moment of burying my face in my hands and listening to Sydney's comforting whispers to compose myself enough to say something. "She... she did this. Irina. Syd, she killed my mother." 

"Vaughn, we don't know that for sure." 

"How the hell do you explain that?" I demanded, pointing at the document on the floor. "I don't buy this whole fire thing. She never even lit candles... the smell always made her dizzy..."

My head was spinning and I couldn't stop the next words from tumbling out of my mouth. "I wish she never existed." 

Sydney was taken aback, and for a moment her hand pulled away from mine. Then I realized my implication. 

"Oh God, Syd. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." 

Her hand slid back into mine. "I know. It's okay. It just... surprised me."

"Syd, I'm sorry for being like this. But that woman took away my family. If it wasn't for you, I'd have nothing left."

She didn't answer. I felt a teardrop slip down my hand onto hers, and I wasn't sure whose it was. 

"We can get through this," she assured me. 

"It doesn't feel like I ever will."

"But you will, I promise."

"Good."

There was quiet again. We'd run out of words. Or we just didn't need them. Sydney squeezed my hand and laid her head down on my shoulder. I put my other arm around her. 

And we tricked ourselves into thinking, just for a moment in time, that everything was alright. 

***

"Definitely KGB. I mean this thing is like... whoa. Gotta be at least thirty years old," Marshall concluded as he waved a magnifying glass over the scrap of paper. 

"That's impossible," Sydney argued. "Why wouldn't it have been found until now?"

"I'm not sure, but this follows the exact formations of every KGB message we've researched."

"Why the hell would there be KGB messages hidden in my house? Among my mother's possessions? My father did everything he possibly could to protect her from all that...." 

"Right now, I'm confused myself, Mr. Vaughn. I mean this is kind of mind blowing. I haven't been this confused since I had to analyze that one artifact from Canberra... that kept me up for nights, good thing I'd just bought that jumbo cart of black coffee-"

"Marshall," Sydney cut in. 

"Oh, right. Well, I'll study this more and see what I can find. I'll contact you is anything comes up."

"Thank you," I muttered. 

Sydney and I walked silently to the elevator and I stared at the ground as the doors opened. 

"You okay?" Sydney asked me softly while she hit the button for the parking garage. 

"Yeah... yeah, I'm fine," I lied. 

She placed a hand on my arm. "I think I know somewhere we can go. It'll make you feel better."

I looked at her, and she smiled a little. "Okay," I agreed. 

***

"The pier?" I observed as we pulled up in front of the familiar spot. 

She shrugged. "You know I come here to calm down. You even helped me once. I lean over the rail and stare at the ocean... it's so peaceful. Almost lets me forget... forget everything."

"Think it'll help me?" I asked. 

"Might. But then I realized that I was wasting too much of my life trying to forget it. So I say we step away from the rail and have some fun before we forget what that what that is too." 

She glanced toward the bright, dizzying array of technicolor lights from the rides on the pier and I knew exactly was she meant. 

I felt the first genuine smile in two days spread across my face. "Let's go." 

***

"Oh God, Syd. I haven't been on that thing since I was ten. And even then I'd get overwhelmingly sick."

She smirked. "Come on. You're saying that strong, capable, top CIA Agent Vaughn can handle seeing terrorists brutally tortured but he can't handle a Tilt a Whirl?" 

"Don't I get credit for being able to handle you?" 

"I didn't discredit you. I admit that's not the easiest job, which is why I'm forcing you to lighten up. Come on," she urged, grinning. Like a middle school student on her first date, she grabbed my hand and directed me towards the line. 

Ten minutes later, we were spinning around in mind-shaking circles, the bright lights of the other rides a brilliant cyclone around us. Sydney laughed at my grimace and clasped my hand. 

I was so dizzy when it was over that I had to lean on her for support as we walked to the next ride.  

"Can you manage The Scrambler?" she asked me laughingly. 

"Possibly. Do you wanna risk your throw up free hair?" 

"Sure," she answered with no hesitation. 

We headed to the ride. Once we were though to the colorful seats, I read the warning on the cool metal. 

_Smaller person on inside._

"Guess that's you, Syd," I told her, and helped her into the seat. The ride started a moment later, and we almost immediately understood the purpose for the warning. As the cars began to spin, Sydney began to slide across the seat in my direction. 

Gasping, she clutched the bar and attempted to pull herself back to her position. It worked for a minute, but the ride sped up and she crashed into me again. Even with her strength, it was near impossible to fight the gravitational force. 

She smiled sheepishly at me and tried to shift a little so all her weight wouldn't be pressed against my thigh. "Sorry. I tried," she yelled over the noise. 

I laughed. "No problem." I lifted my arm and placed it carefully around her, pressing a kiss to her temple. The ride and the dizziness of spinning so quickly faded away, and there was just us. Sydney and Vaughn, away from the life of agents and missions, sitting in a rusty, steel boxed in seat and having fun. 

If only rides didn't have to eventually end. 

***

A/N: Guess what, guess what, guess what?? Elektra's gonna come back!! She's joining me again for chapter five! Yay! Okay, now encourage both of us and review, please! :-) 


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